


French Press, Trial #7

by TracyLouiseHeart



Category: Lost Girl (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:37:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracyLouiseHeart/pseuds/TracyLouiseHeart
Summary: Lauren is interrupted while trying to perfect her coffee making technique.





	French Press, Trial #7

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the only fic I've written for this fandom, and the result of a dream I had. I hope it works?? I've failed to pinpoint precise timing, but during the span obviously where Kenzi and Lauren were definitely *not* getting along.

Lauren truly would not have been so bothered by Kenzi’s existence but for the mere fact that Kenzi could not accept Lauren’s relationship with Bo. Other than that, the minor annoyances would barely have registered. However, things being as they were, even Kenzi’s commentary on Lauren’s method of making coffee were causing her to shift her focus on not strangling the girl, rather than the temperature of the water on the stove.

Clearly cleanliness and order were not high on the list of priorities around the clubhouse, and although Lauren would never quite understand that, she was generally unbothered by it, and in fact almost found it charming (at times). It wasn’t like she had never seen worse. She was, after all, despite her neuroses and nerd talk, kind of a badass. Or, at least, that was what she told herself. If she weren’t, she reasoned, she would never have survived so many years off the grid, let alone had the courage to do even half of the things she had in her past. Not that she liked to think about the past…

At least if Kenzi knew about Lauren’s past badassery, she might let her monitor the water temperature in peace. Lauren wondered what her brother might have done under similar circumstances. He probably would have kicked Kenzi’s ass, she mused. 

Lauren stuck the thermometer through the spout of the kettle more aggressively than she intended to. Steam cascaded around her fingers, burning the tips, rapidly heating the glorified metal stick she was holding onto. Rather than further degrade Kenzi’s opinion of her, Lauren resolved not to move her hand, but rather continue on her quest to perfecting her brew method.

93 degrees Celsius. Precisely the number she had aimed for. Lauren removed the thermometer and her now quite red hand from the mouth of the kettle. When she turned around, Kenzi was right behind her, still ranting about why the “normal” coffee maker wasn’t good enough for Lauren. Lauren rolled her eyes and sighed,

“Would you please move?” 

Kenzi stared at Lauren as though she were an alien.

“Excuse me? This is my kitchen, Doc. Maybe you and your pants-less ass should go!” Kenzi, exasperated as usual, picked up the French press from where it sat on the counter. “What’s so great about this thing anyway? It just looks like a random steampunk glass mug or something. The coffee would already be coffee by now if you just used good ol’ Mr. Perky over there.”

Lauren glanced over at the old (and somewhat crusty) drip coffee maker that Kenzi was referring to, then looked back at Kenzi. 

“Kenzi please, just put it down. Your coffee maker is perfectly serviceable, we both know that. You also know that I have used it dozens of times. I am just experimenting with a different method.”

Kenzi unceremoniously plunked the French press down closer to Lauren and pulled herself up to sit on the counter.

“You didn’t, like, put some gross fae slobber or- sorry- “excretions” in there, did you?” Kenzi asked, staring through the glass wall at the grinds. Lauren would’ve laughed at the concerned face Kenzi was making if Lauren hadn’t been so focused on the coffee. That, and the whole Kenzi hating her thing. Lauren raised an eyebrow,

“Do you really think I would do that?”

Kenzi shrugged, “I have no idea! Why do you do anything that you do? What even do you do? As far as I can tell, you’re into some pretty weird as fae shit.”

Lauren let out a brief chuckle, despite herself, and shot back, “What, you mean like Bo? Besides, you don’t know anything about my life.” Kenzi grumbled and slid off the counter. 

“Whatever, you know that’s not what I meant,” Kenzi grumbled, grabbing her phone and jacket. “I’m going out. You better be done with this bullshit before I get back.”

Lauren ignored this and pressed the plunger down. Kenzi stomped off, slamming the door. Lauren shook her head and poured out the coffee into two mugs.

A floorboard creaked over by the stairs. Lauren looked over but saw nothing. She fingered a knife laying haphazardly by the sink.

“Bo?”

For a moment, there was no movement. Lauren held her breath and picked up the knife. She moved out of the line of sight of whomever might be lurking. 

Suddenly, there was a blur of movement, and Lauren felt an arm grab her. Lauren drew back the knife ready to pounce (or stab, more accurately). Before Lauren started the knife on a downward trajectory, she realized that the moving figure was just Bo in a kimono, messing with her. Lauren drew her hand back further and dropped the knife behind her.

Bo stepped back, slightly stunned but mostly amused. 

“What was that all about?” Bo asked, eyes laughing. Lauren smiled sheepishly. 

“Oh, um...you know, just...trying to spice things up a bit,” she said, crossing through the kitchen to retrieve the coffee. She offered a mug to Bo, who accepted it eagerly.

“Wow, this is better than usual,” Bo exclaimed between sips. “Did you do something differently?” Bo eyed the remnants of Lauren’s “experiment”. Lauren considered explaining the reasons why this method was scientifically superior, but stopped herself. Lauren simply nodded, adding,

“I just thought I’d try using my old French press again.”

“Well, whatever you did, I think it was worth it.” Lauren smiled, then sipped her coffee, making mental notes about the variables that she would tweak the following morning. A little bit more coffee, perhaps, and a slightly shorter steep. Perhaps she would pull out the pour over that she used to use…

“...are you in?” Bo was asking Lauren a question. Lauren had no idea what it was. She looked up at Bo, smiling. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say? It was about a case, right?” She was mostly guessing, but Bo got a certain glint in her eye when she was plotting how to execute in a new investigation. Bo kissed Lauren softly.

“You know, you sure space out a lot for someone who’s allegedly interested in my work,” Bo teased. Lauren shot her a look, suggesting she was not entirely amused. “Fine,” Bo continued, “we have to go undercover. There’s some weird fae bird lady messing with people’s eyes and making them see stuff that isn’t there.”

“Stuff? What are they seeing?”

“Well, essentially, they think they’re watching their loved ones die.” Lauren’s eyes widened.

“You might have led with that! I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a thing,” she said, getting up abruptly and awkwardly putting on her jacket. “Of course I’m in, there’s just...I have a book that would have information about this…” Lauren said as she awkwardly ran out the door.

“Wh- Laur- I didn’t mean...right now!” Bo called after her, sighing. “Guess that’s what I get for falling for a nerd.”


End file.
